Seeing Sri Lanka’s tea country by rail

Clutching a bottle of water, I slowly side-step under a corrugated iron canopy as Mendis gently delivers more instructions. We’re standing on the quaint Victorian-style platform of Sri Lanka’s Kandy railway station with its stylish arches and intricate metalwork that dates back to 1867 when the route from the capital Columbo to the central town was built by the British to transport tea. Today there are train tracks between all of the biggest cities in Sri Lanka and I’d been told by everyone who knew I was visiting that a scenic tour on a train across the stunning Sri Lankan countryside was not to be missed.

Arching an eyebrow Mendis continues: ‘Keep hold of the ticket, you’re travelling second class.’ I nod. ‘Your train is already an hour late.’ I nod again. He pauses. ‘I’m sorry, delays happen here.’

But I don’t mind at all. I can’t take my eyes off the wall of tropical greenery behind him – dopey looking palms sinking over in the heat, red-tipped bushes and clumps of shiny leaves rise up against a spotless blue sky. Mendis must be no more than two years older than me, if that, but he’s looking after me like I’m one of his daughters – he told me he has two, both under five.

Back to the plan. I’ll get off at Hatton, around three hours south of Kandy. Mendis will drive down, racing the train along winding roads, and meet me at the station. The delay gives him a head start and he’s eager to get going.

‘You have water,’ he says, nodding at the bottle in my arms. ‘Any questions, just ask that man over there, he’s my friend.’ The word ‘friend’ triggers his megawatt smile and right on cue a man sitting nearby at a dark wooden table turns and waves enthusiastically. ‘This is like being sent off to Malory Towers!’ I think, gleefully.

I wander over to a blue rusting kiosk sitting like a tin can in the sun at one end of the platform. I buy a small bag crammed full with chilli crackers and a packet of coconut biscuits from a woman fitted snugly inside the tin and wander back towards a row of white plastic chairs facing the railway track. The station is an attraction in itself and I happily while away the next hour or so admiring my surroundings and watching backpackers and tourists filter on to the platform.

Boarding the already jam-packed carriage, I immediately give up on finding my reserved seat and position myself under a rusty fan next to a family spanning three generations.

The train coughs into action and a couple of women pull two smiley little girls dressed in matching red and white Minnie Mouse summer dresses, polished white shoes and frilly ankle socks on to their laps.

A few minutes in I feel a tap on my elbow. Looking down, a tiny elderly woman, who has to be nudging 90, is gesturing towards a now empty seat opposite her. ‘Sit,’ she smiles. I sit and drink up the improved view of lush palms and paddy fields swishing by.

Paper bags bursting with sticky-syrup- drenched ‘sweetmeats’ (a loose name for desserts and sweets in Sri Lanka) and chilli peanuts are being passed around. I add my chilli crackers into the mix to a wave of approving smiles and nods. I can see now why Mendis sees travelling by train as special and I get off at Hatton three hours later to a happy flurry of smiles, and waves.

Miraculously Mendis is on the platform when I step off the train. ‘How was it?’ he asks. ‘I loved it,’ I reply as his face creases into a big smile.

W e set off again as the sun came out, passing trees full of bats, beautiful roadside waterfalls and views that would take your breath away. At one point Mendis screeched to a stop beside a stall selling fruit inches from the road and bought a bunch of red bananas – small, chunky and sweet. ‘They are exported all over the world,’ he said, relishing the fact I’d never seen or eaten one before. ‘Another Sri Lanka first,’ he laughed.

Kandy is dominated by a huge glassy lake and framed by sublime green heights of rising hill country. It served as the capital of the last Sinhalese kingdom before being claimed by the British in 1815 after defying the Portuguese and Dutch for three centuries. A Victorian Brit feel still thrives.

Arriving at lunchtime there was just enough time to fit in two of the historic town’s must-see sights. The Peradeniya Royal Botanical Gardens, well known for their beautiful collection of orchids, trees and open green space. It’s so peaceful you’ll forget the world outside it exists.

The Temple of the Sacred Tooth (Sri Dalada Maligawa) a Buddhist temple, is the second and set in the royal palace complex and is considered the heart of the country. In fact it is believed whichever dwelling on the island holds the tooth also holds the governance of the country and Kandy is now a Unesco world heritage site partly due to the temple. I was lucky enough to see both sights on my journey to sample ‘the best tea in the world’ at Ceylon Tea Trails, which continued from Kandy on my very special train journey.

Now the train travel plan had worked out and I’d met Mendis in Hatton we hop in his car and begin the journey from Hatton to even higher ground into Tea Country via steep, spiralling and excruciatingly narrow roads over looking tapestries of tea plantations and occasionally opening up to loop around the serenely still Castreagh Lake, built in 1957 and 75 metres deep.

The eponymous English cuppa flourished here thanks to a coffee blight in 1865 that devastated plantations. Pioneering planters threw in a crop of tea to fill the gap as a last resort and the rest is history.

I spend the rest of my stay in tea land the way it should be - drinking tea, eating curry and relaxing, before Mendis arrived to take me to his home town of Galle. ‘Is there any tea there?’ I ask and he nods. I can feel another Sri Lankan adventure brewing...